


baby

by psychamoanix (psychamonix)



Series: reasons i'm going to hell [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Collars, Crossdressing Kink, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Vibrators, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychamonix/pseuds/psychamoanix
Summary: (6:13) <>image sent<>(6:13)what(6:14) Not so innocent now, huh?---Skeppy calls Bad innocent. Bad wants to prove him wrong.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Series: reasons i'm going to hell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005174
Comments: 16
Kudos: 823





	baby

**Author's Note:**

> it should be obvious, but for the brief texting bit, bad is normal text and skeppy is italics. also, note: i didn't have a specific dress in mind while writing, but for imagination purposes it's kinda similar to the maid dress- just think fitted top, puffy skirt
> 
> this is my first skephalo fic + i don't watch much of their content, so if they've ever stated they're uncomfortable with this or any kind of fic, PLEASE tell me and i will take it down

It’s a conversation that’s happened before. This time is...different. 

“I’m not _that_ innocent!” Bad says, frowning at the screen. He swings his pixelated axe into Quackity’s character, jumping after him as he runs away laughing. 

“Are you kidding me?” Quackity says, hopping across the river and turning to punch the air, taunting him. “You really fucking are.”

“Language!” 

“See?” 

Bad huffs, switching to a crossbow. “Skeppy, come on, back me up.” 

They’ve been messing around for a while now. Nothing serious, nothing that they talk about- _ever_ , except in gasps and late-night confessions; _‘don’t stop,’ ‘I don’t want to.’_

But Skeppy just laughs, his amusement at the situation clear. “I don’t know, Bad, he’s kinda right. You are pretty innocent.” 

Quackity’s responding gloat is cut off by squawking when Bad’s arrow explodes his character into a collection of items. Ignoring him, Bad turns the subject to something else, something meaningless, letting his words flow casually as if the conversation meant nothing. 

But it did.

That night, he orders several items and goes to sleep with his mind whirling. 

\---

The last of the packages (unmarked, discrete) arrives a few weeks later. Bad picks it up off his doorstep and tucks it into his closet with the others. Then he shuts the closet door and slides down to the ground, breathing out slowly. His heart beats a frantic tempo in his chest. 

Is he seriously about to do this? Does he dare?

It was a joke; he knows that. This would make it _real._ Important. 

He almost wishes he could discuss it with Skeppy (his best friend; they’re _just friends_ ), but he had wanted it to be a surprise. He still _does_ want it to be a surprise. 

Sliding the door open just a few inches, he peers in at the packages. They’re mostly bags, a small collection of blank white plastic with address stickers plastered over them, but there’s two boxes at the bottom. Small, unassuming. 

He reaches for one of them. Opens it. Slides the smaller, inner container out into his hand. 

He shouldn’t be this nervous over a box, even one with these contents. It’s stupid. It might just prove what Quackity and Skeppy were saying- that he’s innocent. 

But an innocent person wouldn’t have bought it in the first place. 

Steadying himself, Bad lifts the lid and pulls the collar out. It fits snugly around his neck, the little charm dangling down and touching his skin with a kiss of cold metal. He pushes himself into standing, walking into the bathroom and exhaling slowly before he flicks on the light. 

The dark sheen of the leather contrasts beautifully with the red, red blush practically glowing on his cheeks and neck. He’s bitten his lips with nerves, and combined with the collar and the flush, he looks positively indecent. 

Rather- he looks like he’s been fucked. Extraordinarily well. 

Bad leans in to see the inscription on the charm, rubbing his thumb over the rough lettering. The word glints playfully under the bright lights. _BABY._

Leaning back, Bad covers his face with his hand. He doesn’t know if he’s hiding the blooming ferocity of his blush or the subtle, growing smile on his lips. 

(The rest of the outfit fits him perfectly. Bad folds it and places it carefully into his underwear drawer, then marks down a day to execute his plan.

Skeppy won’t know what hit him.)

\---

(6:13) <>image sent<>

(6:13) _what_

(6:14) Not so innocent now, huh?

(6:14) _bad. what_

(6:14) Nothing much to say?

(6:15) _i think you broke the part of my brain that makes words._

(6:16) That’s too bad. Hopefully everything else still works ;)

(6:16) _bad, jesus fucking_

(6:17) Language!

(6:17) _you’re not allowed to call me on language, you’re in a fucking dress_

(6:17) <>image sent<>  
(6:17) Among other things, yeah. 

(6:18) _what the hell bad is that a collar???_  
(6:18) _did you go to a shop for this?????_

(6:19) Amazon is a very useful website. 

(6:20) _of course it is_

(6:21) You know, I got some other things from Amazon, too.

(6:21) _oh?_

(6:22) These ones you don’t get a photo of.

(6:22) _why not_

(6:23) Let’s just say it’d be quite a contortion.

(6:23) _jesus_  
(6:23) _bad, i’m literally at the grocery store_  
(6:23) _you are going to kill me_

(6:24) <>image sent<>

(6:24) _nevermind i’m already dead_

(6:25) I’m getting impatient. 

(6:25) _okay okay i’m checking out_  
(6:25) _wait five minutes i’ll be home soon okay_

(6:26) <>image sent<>  
(6:26) Better hurry <3

(6:27) _BAD_

\---

Skeppy almost crashes his car several times during the drive back to his apartment. He’s pretty sure the cashier at the grocery store thought he was either insane or waiting for an extremely important call because of the way he couldn’t stop glancing at his phone, checking his lock screen over and over again in case Bad texted. 

He hadn’t, after that last picture, but Skeppy can’t stop thinking about it either way. The frame had shown Bad’s mouth, quirked halfway up into a self-conscious smile, all the way down to his shoulders. He’d seen the soft arch of his neck and the gentle dusting of blush across his skin, completely uncovered by the wide neckline of the dress Bad was wearing. 

The dress- oh god. Skeppy thinks he might actually pass away just from the few angles he’s seen of it. 

First of all- it’s ridiculously low-cut. On a woman, it might just be enough to expose her collarbones and the dip of her throat, but Bad’s lack of boobs makes the fabric droop slightly, showing even more of his chest. Skeppy imagines it can’t be too far from slipping and revealing Bad’s nipple. 

Even more than that, it’s short. One of the first photos was a full-length shot, head to stockinged toe, and the dress had hit Bad about a third of the way down his thigh, leaving about five inches of bare skin between its hem and the top of the thigh-high socks that covered the bottoms of his legs. It’s the perfect length to flip up, to slide a hand under, to tease along the edge of his underwear until he begs for something more substantial. 

Completely unprompted, a thought arrives in Skeppy’s brain: _is Bad wearing matching panties?_

He almost chokes on his spit, then presses down harder on the gas pedal. At this rate, he might go insane if he doesn’t make it back in the next few minutes. 

\---

Skeppy nearly twitches out of his skin in the elevator, tapping his foot so loudly the businesswomen next to him glances disgustedly in his direction, pointedly putting her phone call on mute. He ignores her, cursing the grocery bags burdening his arms for preventing him from just dashing up the stairs. 

The elevator opens on his floor and he squeezes quickly out of it, hurrying as fast as possible down to his door. He drops the keys twice as he fumbles them out of his pocket, but eventually manages to get the door open and shut behind him, kicking his shoes off and dropping the grocery bags haphazardly on the floor. He’ll pick them up later, but now he has more important things to do. 

Barely stopping to flick on the lights as he goes, Skeppy skids through his hallway into his room, flopping back onto his bed as he unlocks his phone and frantically hits the call button. 

To his relief, Bad answers immediately. 

“Hey!” He chirps, as if this is any normal conversation. 

“Bad,” Skeppy says, still winded from his sprint through the apartment. “What the hell- what are you- why the fuck are you wearing that?”

“Do you like it?” Bad asks, pulling his phone back to show more of himself, tilting the camera so it flicks over the waistline, the tulle puff of the skirt. “I bought it just for you.” 

“Do I _like it_?” Skeppy asks incredulously. “Of course I like it, you’re so fucking hot, dude, oh my god.” 

Bad blushes all the way down to his chest. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure if you would.” 

About to reply, Skeppy’s distracted by a flash of silver, caught when Bad shifts the camera. “Is that- do you have a nametag?” 

“Um, yeah.” Bad’s blush deepens. “I took it off for the pictures, I wasn’t sure...but it doesn’t look right without it.” 

“What’s it say?” Skeppy asks, squinting at the blurry image. 

On screen, Bad bites his lip, looking away from the camera as one of his hands comes up to toy with the charm. “It says...um, it says ‘Baby.’” 

“Oh.” As if in response to Bad’s shyness, Skeppy feels himself growing more confident, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Would you like it if I called you that? Baby?”

“Skeppy.” Bad covers his face with one hand, nearly dropping the phone. 

“Come on, baby, it’s not that bad.” His voice has dropped unconsciously, his words teasing and gentle. “You got all dressed up for me, put on that collar and everything, but can’t take it when I call you pet names? When I call you mine?” 

Skeppy hears Bad inhale, watches the feed go shaky as Bad brings his knees up to his chest. The hem of the skirt falls open slightly and Skeppy bites down hard on his bottom lip. 

“Go on, prop the phone up somewhere for me, baby. Show me what you’re wearing.” 

Bad nods obediently, though the red on his face doesn’t fade a bit. He glances around, as if looking for a place, then apparently rolls off his bed, the feed blurring as he adjusts. Skeppy takes the time to sit up himself, propping himself against the headboard and balancing the hand holding his phone on his thigh. Absentmindedly, his other hand drops to the bulge already forming in his sweatpants. 

When he looks back at the screen, he sees a wide shot of Bad’s bed, the man perched almost anxiously in the center, sitting back on his heels. His fingers are toying with the end of his skirt, dragging it slightly up his thigh.

“That’s it, Bad,” Skeppy says, watching the way Bad’s fingers still almost guiltily. “No, don’t stop, baby. Lift your skirt for me.” 

Instead, Bad’s hands leave his thighs completely, dropping to the sheets beside him as he looks askew at the camera. “Skeppy, that’s not how you treat a girl!” 

“Good thing you’re not a girl then, huh?” Skeppy fires back, brushing a few fingers down the quickly growing hard-on. 

“You still have to- you can’t just tell me to _‘lift my skirt,’_ Skeppy.” 

“Why not?” Skeppy says, pressing harder on his erection. “Be a good boy, come on. I want to see what’s underneath; you look so good right now. So pretty.” 

It seems to surprise them both when Bad groans at that, slapping a hand over his mouth almost immediately as the other hand clenches into the sheets. 

“Aw, babe, you like that?” Skeppy teases, amusement in his voice. “Being my good boy, my pretty boy? Don’t you want to behave for me?” 

Skeppy watches the effect it has on Bad, his spine stiffening before he almost melts onto the bed, shifting his legs until they tilt to one side of his body and bringing his hands down to grip the fabric of his skirt. The blush on his face has somehow gotten deeper; his entire upper body looks hot to the touch. 

“There, go ahead, lift it up. You don’t have to go fast, just slide it, pretty thing. Let me see what you’ve got.” Slowly, Skeppy rolls his hips up against his palm, letting Bad hear the resulting groan.

And hear it he does, if the shocked glance he aims at the camera is any indication. Even as he does, though, his hands keep moving, inching the hem closer and closer to his waist, exposing more of his pale thighs. 

“Are you-” Bad hesitates, his voice meeker than it normally would be. “Are you jerking off?” 

Skeppy can’t help the laugh that springs out of him at hearing those words come out of Bad’s mouth. He rolls his hips up again as he speaks, and his words catch on the end of an exhale. “Yeah- yeah, I am. Does that make you feel something, baby? You did this to me, didn’t you. Are you proud?” 

He doesn’t miss Bad’s nod, just a slight dip of the head. “You are, aren’t you? Do you want to see?”

Another shy nod, but this time, Skeppy decides to play. “Is that a yes?” 

“Skeppy, don’t-” Bad bites his lip, leaning in towards the camera. The charm spins slightly in the open air. “Yes it’s a yes, don’t tease.” 

“Sorry, babe, you’re just so cute, so desperate for me.” But the game isn’t finished. “I’ll show you when you lift your skirt.” 

“You can’t-!” Bad leans back again, shoulders dropping as if in disappointment. “You can’t bribe me, Skeppy.” 

“It’s not that hard, baby. You do something for me, I do something for you.” Just to make it more interesting, he reaches into his underwear and pulls himself free, spitting into his palm before stroking down, letting out a nice long moan. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” 

The change in noises seems to spur Bad into action, his wide eyes meeting the camera before he exhales audibly and moves his hands back to the skirt. Refusing to look at the camera, he drops his head to his chest, eyes glued to his own hands as he slowly drags the hem up once more. 

“That’s it, baby. So pretty for me.” Skeppy encourages him, bringing his own phone closer to see better. “Such a good boy, there you go.” 

Shuddering at the words, Bad lifts the skirt the rest of the way, exposing his waist. And Skeppy gets the answer to his earlier question: yes, Bad is wearing matching panties. 

Lace-trimmed, baby blue matching panties. 

He’s also painfully hard, and Skeppy pauses just a second for his brain to stop malfunctioning before he keeps talking. 

( _Holy shit._ There is no way this is happening to him right now.

There is no way his _best friend_ , a beloved Minecraft YouTuber and role model for children everywhere, who is known for being wholesome and innocent, is showing off panties and thigh-high stockings to him on a FaceTime call. While he jerks off accordingly.)

“Aw, Bad,” he cooes, when his brain starts cooperating again. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier you get off on this? On me calling you my pretty boy, while you display yourself so nicely for me? We could’ve had so much _fun._ ”

“I didn’t- _Skeppy,_ ” Bad says, close to desperate. “How was I supposed to know that you’d like this?” 

“I’m pretty sure anyone would like it, Bad. You’re cute, you know that?” Skeppy says, thumbing over the head of his cock. His eyes, mostly glued to the panties, dart up in time to catch the second of vulnerability flicker across Bad’s face. 

“I know that, Skeppy,” he says, fidgeting with the fabric he still holds aloft. 

“No, Bad, I’m not sure you do. You’re adorable, baby. And you’re so good, holy shit, you’ve been so good for me,” Skeppy breathes, tracking the way Bad squirms. “Look at what you’ve done.” 

He flips the camera on his phone, holding it up to his chest so it captures his hand moving on his dick, red and slick. He hears Bad’s sudden intake of breath and watches him squirm, leaning forward to see better with his mouth hanging slightly open. 

“Enjoying the view?” He says, watching Bad’s tongue swipe out to wet his lips. “If you were here...god. I’d put that mouth of yours to good use.” 

Bad _whimpers._ Smirking, Skeppy slows his stroke, showing off, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. 

“Or,” he continues, “I’d let you sit on my lap, bounce on my cock a little, grind up into you. I wouldn’t fuck you; not for a while, anyway. I’d just let you squirm for me, maybe tie you up, leave you begging for _something_ better than the friction of your panties.” 

“Then,” he says, listening to Bad’s breathing increase in pace, broken up by a quiet whine, “then, I’d finger you open real slow, make you impatient, until you’re so eager you can’t help but plead for it. And then I’d let you ride me. Or I’d pound you. Either way.” 

Almost losing himself in his own imagination, Skeppy is caught off guard by Bad’s burst of speech. 

“ _Skeppy,_ I can’t- please, can I? Please?” 

“Can you what, baby?” 

“Please-can-I-touch-myself?” Bad’s words come out all in a rush, like he can’t help himself. Like he’s embarrassed to ask, embarrassed to want it. 

“Oh, baby, of course. You’ve been so good, you deserve it.” Skeppy says, grunting a little as he thrusts up into his hand at the sound Bad makes when he finally gets a hand on his cock, halfway between a moan and a keen. 

They’re silent for a few minutes, except for the periodic noises that spill from each one’s mouth, carried through the call. But eventually, Bad’s moans start getting higher, breathier, and Skeppy notices him clenching his eyes shut as his hand speeds up. 

“Stop,” he says, forcing his voice into an uncharacteristically serious tone. “Bad, don’t cum.” 

“Skeppy, please-” 

“I said no.”

Whining, Bad stops, pulling his hand off his dick. It curves up, disrupting the shape of the skirt, which still pools around Bad’s thighs. 

“Good boy.” Skeppy breathes. 

“Why can’t I- why can’t I cum?” Bad asks, stuttering over the word. Skeppy wonders when the last time he said it was. 

“Because,” Skeppy says, mentally preparing himself for the words that are about to come out of his own mouth, “when you cum, I want it to be with three fingers in your ass, thinking about me.” 

Even without the pleasure of touching himself, Bad moans at that, his fingers curling into the bed sheets around his knees to avoid the temptation. He opens his mouth, as if about to speak, then closes it, then opens it again. 

“Got something to say?” Skeppy asks.

“I wanted to- to tell you.” Bad bites his lip, looking off to the side as if not making eye contact will change the weight of his words. “You know when you asked what I was wearing, and I told you you couldn’t see some of it?” 

“Yeah. You said it would be a contortion or something.” Skeppy says slowly, possibilities springing into his mind. 

“I...may or may not have prepared myself earlier.” 

“Baby. You’re using a plug?” 

“Not exactly.” Bad winces. “A...vibrating dildo.” 

Skeppy’s mind goes completely blank. It’s worse than the dress, worse than the panties, worse than anything he’s already experienced in this shock of an encounter. 

“You’ve had a vibrating dildo,” he says slowly, “up your ass. This entire time.” 

“It-It’s not on, but, um...yes?” 

“ _Bad._ Holy shit.” Skeppy’s hand speeds up on his cock, unable to hold himself back from imagining it. “Can you show me?”

“I guess? How do I…” Bad trails off, seemingly contemplating, then seems to resign himself to indecency. He turns on the bed and bends over, bracing himself up on his knees and one hand while the other flips the hem of the skirt over his back and pulls his panties down. 

The position he’s in makes Skeppy groan even before he sees the base of the dildo protruding from Bad’s hole. He can’t stop thinking: if he was there, that would be him, would be his cock. He could hold Bad down with a hand on his back, or with one twisted into his hair, pressing his face into the pillow as he pounded relentlessly into him. 

“Do you have the remote?” Skeppy says, gripping the base of his cock to warn off his orgasm. He has to savor this. Holy shit. 

“I do, it’s, uh, it’s here.” Bad says, bending over further to reach for it. The skirt swishes slightly as he moves. 

“What settings does it have?” Skeppy asks, barely able to form coherent words. 

“Just levels, one through six, nothing special.”

“Alright. Put it on two.” 

He can tell Bad obeyed by the way the man jerks forward on his hands and knees, the remote falling back to the bed as he drops his hand down to fist the sheets. 

“Skeppy, oh my goodness, it feels- oh God, I-” 

“Feels good, baby, right?” Skeppy says, thrusting up into his hand once more. “Just imagine if I was there. I’d press you right down into the sheets, fuck you on that dildo, get you all nice and open before my turn came. Maybe make you come once, or more than once, just so you’re all sweet and pliant. Just so the second time will be almost too much for you to take, until you can’t decide between begging for more or less.” 

“ _Skeppy_ -” 

“Go to four.” 

Bad’s moans increase in pitch, and Skeppy sees him start to wiggle his hips, as if adjusting where the dildo hits. He’s moaning freely now, nowhere near the shy thing that’d blushed at being called pretty. It’s almost an achievement: Skeppy has completely ruined him. 

(Or rather: he’s goaded him into ruining himself. A scenario that is inarguably better.)

“There you go, pretty boy, come on. You can take it, you’re doing so well.” Skeppy praises, eyes glued to the curves of Bad’s ass and the way the skirt swings as he adjusts himself. “Bad, I want you to do something.” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“I want you to reach back and hold onto the base of the dildo. Then I want you to tilt it until it hits your prostate. And then I want you to go to setting six.” 

Moaning, Bad releases the sheets with one hand, gripping the dildo as he follows Skeppy’s instructions. Skeppy can tell when he finds it by the way he gasps, then moans louder than before, his supporting arm almost buckling with the pleasure. 

“Now go to six,” Skeppy pants, increasing the pace of the hand moving on his cock. Bad can probably hear it through the phone now, the lewd, rapid impacts of his hand slapping against his skin. 

“Please-” Bad sobs, but still presses the button. Somehow, his moans echo even louder through the call, and he’s rocking back and forth now, pressing his hips back into the dildo as if he’s actually getting fucked. 

“How’s that, Bad?” Skeppy asks, voice rough as he approaches his climax. The heat in the bottom of his stomach is twisting, impatient, ready to snap. 

“Skeppy, Skeppy, please-” His voice is shaky, almost breaking on the second word. 

“Touch yourself.” Skeppy demands, letting his head fall back against the headboard as he fucks up into his fist; faster, harder, like he would fuck Bad. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for it to be uncomfortable when he sits at his desk to stream. So he’d fidget, _squirm,_ and chat would pick up on it, but no one would know. Except them. 

Bad lets out a long, high-pitched cry, something halfway between _Skeppy_ and _please_ , and Skeppy glances back at the screen just in time to see him cum across the bed, streaking the sheets. The sight makes Skeppy follow suit, his arousal peaking sharply as he spills across his own hand, eyes closing as he works himself through it. 

The call is silent for a moment except for their mutual panting. Skeppy tilts his head back to look at the blank white expanse of his ceiling, wiping his hand on the sheets, since he’ll have to do laundry anyway. 

“Skeppy?” He hears Bad ask hesitantly. 

“Holy fuck, dude.” Skeppy groans, rolling over onto his stomach so he can prop his phone against the headboard while resting his cheek on the bed. “What _was_ that?” 

Bad laughs lightly, picking his phone up from wherever he’d propped it. The image blurs as he moves back to recline on the bed. “I’m pretty sure that was sex, Skeppy.” 

“Yeah, but, like...why? Why _that_ specifically?” 

Bad blushes. “Remember that one stream? With Quackity?” 

“Probably,” Skeppy says, tilting his head idly to the other side. “Which one?” 

“It doesn’t really matter, I guess. The point is that you called me innocent.” 

“So, what, you wanted to prove me wrong?” 

“I guess. I mean, yes, I did.” Bad leans back, plucking up the front of the skirt to reveal the tulle underlining. “Did it work?” 

“Are you joking? Bad, I’ve never seen _anyone_ do stuff like that before. At least not with me.” Skeppy laughs again at the way Bad flushes. “I should provoke you more often if this is what you’re going to do about it.” 

Still blushing, Bad smiles self-consciously. “Maybe you should.” 

“Maybe I will.” Skeppy says, lowering his eyelids in a lazy half-blink. Then, just to see Bad flush, he speaks again. “Maybe I will, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really ship skephalo, esp for porn, but i love the "innocent"-partner-proves-their-experienced-partner-otherwise trope and it doesn't really work for dream, george, + sapnap, sooo
> 
> thank you for reading! feel free to leave a comment with reactions or suggestions, or sub to/bookmark the series. there will be more ;)


End file.
